I Am the One Woman Who Has It All

As an inhabitant of planet Earth, I’ve heard a lot of people ask, “Can women really have it all?” and other people respond, “You can have it all, just not all at the same time.” Well, guess what, everyone. You’re wrong! I do have it all. Me! I have all of it.

I have two kids and the unspoken pressure to act like they don’t exist when I’m on a conference call.

I have a professional mandate to know what’s happening in pop culture and an eleven-year-old who tells me to “stop trying to act so cool.”

I have no problem lying about “being in a meeting” when I’m with my kids and no problem lying to my kids about “needing to work” when I’m on Facebook.

I have flexible morality and rigid immaturity.

I have kids who have forced me to do everything in my life with greater efficiency and the professional assumption that I’m now less efficient after having kids.

I have the beginnings of an old-lady stoop and the unsightly chin-and-neck pimples of a fifteen-year-old.

I have pointless meetings at work and at home. Pointlessness is a key component of my brand.

I have male colleagues who tell me I’m not aggressive enough and that I will never get what I want out of my team and female colleagues who tell me I’m too aggressive and that I make them sad.

I have the perseverance to pump breast milk what feels like a thousand times a day while on a weeklong business trip and the audacity to expense the cost of shipping said breast milk home only to have that expense denied because what does being away from an exclusively breast-fed baby on a business trip have to do with work OH MY GOD DO YOU UNDERSTAND HOW VOLATILE I AM RIGHT NOW?

I have righteous anger and more righteous anger. In fact, I have so much righteous anger, do you think maybe I’m a character in the Bible?

I have a delusion that I’m in the Bible and the makings of quite a popular secular martyr. Do you think maybe I’ll end up on Oprah’s “Super Soul Sunday?”

I have a fantasy that I’ll end up on “Super Soul Sunday” and the deep-rooted knowledge that if I ever met Oprah I would definitely ask her for money, even though that is definitely not in keeping with the tone of “Super Soul Sunday.” Like, at all.

I have breadwinner status and lead-parent status. I have so much status.

I have the confidence to speak my mind, asking hard-hitting questions about the project I’m working on, and the ability to keep my ears from bleeding when a roomful of male clients explains to me what I don’t understand about the female target audience.

I have the ability to listen to your rah-rah, pro-family work-culture speech as if I’m hearing a fairy tale for the first time and a deep wellspring of cynicism that makes me want to pat you on the head for being so cute with the lying.

I have pizza delivered and more pizza delivered. I have all the pizza.

I have frustration and irritation. Actually, those are pretty much the same thing.